Immortal
by Nienna C
Summary: COMPLETE. One minute. He only blinked. One second, and his best mate was gone. Can he ever forgive himself? Everything isn't what it seems to be...R&R!
1. Prologue

**Immortal**  
By Nienna Celebrindal 

**DO NOT READ BEYOND THIS POINT IF YOU HAVE NOT READ DEATHLY HALLOWS, POSSIBLE SPOILERS! ****You have been warned. **

**Author's Note: **Yes, I know, big text up there, but I wanted to warn people who might not have the book yet. Heh. I suppose most people have it and have read it by now, but it's better to be safe than not. Okay, so, this is the first part in a short fic I wrote, it's not just one chapter (don't be fooled!). Anyway, thanks for reading!

**Timeline: **Five years after Deathly Hallows

**Pairings: **I'm going canon here: H/G, R/Hr, etc.

* * *

**Prologue**

Hail pounded the windows. Ron Weasley stared outside, watching. Several inches of snow had already collected on the pane. Crookshanks sat by his knees, eating a bit of stray yarn. Someone had left a mug of hot coco on the coffee table in front of him; Ron had a suspicion he knew who it was, though he hadn't seen anyone put it there. She was probably the one who'd stoked the fire, too. He could feel it's warmth on his skin, but it didn't go far enough – it didn't reach deep into his heart, where the true cold lurked.

"Ron?"

That was her now.

He knew he should answer, but he couldn't. This had to be a terrible nightmare, any moment he would wake. Everything would be okay then, everything would be good.

"Ron?"

Why wasn't he waking? Maybe he'd been given some sort of draught….

"Ron!"

Hands on his shoulders now. Ron shivered.

"Please talk to me." She said, rubbing his arms. "Please, Ron."

A moment of silence, then, "I'm going to get a healer from St. Mungo's, you're clearly not okay." She paused. "I'll get Harry, too. Maybe he can talk some sense – Ron?"

He turned away from the window, to stare at the mugs of chocolate. They were shoved onto the table's only clean corner, between two books on dark magic, one Quidditch broom guide, and an old Hogwarts essay. There were splotches of dried ink over everything, remnants of food – old candy wrappers, chocolate frog cards, sandwich crusts – and his deck of self-shuffling playing cards, currently shuffling.

Ron reached his hand out, letting it hover above the books. "Hermione?" He whispered.

"Ron." She replied, anticipatorily.

But, he did not continue.

Hermione made a discontented noise and stood. He could feel her weight leave the couch cushions. "I don't understand what's wrong." She said.

Then, someone knocked at the door.

Ron jolted, as though in pain, and watched Hermione open it. The door creaked; numbly, he remembered meaning to fix it.

"Ms. Granger." Said a deep voice.

"Kingsley." Hermione said.

They were staring at him. Kingsley still smelled like that place: damp, mossy, bloody….Ron put his head in his hands. No! He didn't want to remember, he didn't want to go back there and know that it was all real, that he wasn't going to wake up and –

"You're supposed to be at St. Mungo's." Kingsley said.

"Why?" Hermione interjected. "He won't tell me what happened. What's going on?"

Through his fingers, Ron could see Montague Knightley laughing at him, pointing with an old rook out of his chocolate frog card. Hermione came over. Her hip hit the table, causing the pile of books to shift; Montague slid to the floor with a shriek that barley rose above the fire's crackle. Crookshanks lifted his head, his ears swiveling.

"He was injured." Kingsley said.

"Doing_ what_?" Hermione glared at Kingsley, her face flushing.

Kingsley sighed. Ron could hear him sitting down. Cautiously, he looked: a large, dark figure loomed out of the tatty blue chair across from the couch.

"Hermione, has he…said _anything_?" Kingsley asked.

"No. Nothing. And if someone doesn't tell me what's going on –" Her voice trembled.

Kingsley held up a hand.

"You both look awful." She finished. "And…."

They stared at each other, and Hermione knew. She'd suspected before, but now she knew. Kingsley didn't have to say anything.

"No." She whimpered. "No!" Hermione covered her mouth with her hands and began to cry.

It broke something in Ron. He pulled her into his arms, crying, too. "He's gone." He whispered.

Kingsley seemed to need to keep talking, or maybe he thought knowing would help Hermione. Either way – "Mundungus tipped the Aurors' office about the Elder Wand, someone had stolen it again, from Dumbledore's tomb. We've had a regular duty assigned to it, but….We knew, that whoever wanted it, their next logical step would be to claim it by defeating the previous owner." He stopped.

"You should have protected him!" Hermione snapped. She pulled Crookshanks into her lap and hugged him tightly. The cat groaned, disgruntled. "Why was I never _told_? I don't –"

"Because we just found out about it." Kingsley said. "By the time we knew, Ron and Harry had already been dispatched to a disturbance. Renegade Death Eaters. They crop up from time to time. We went to them as soon as Mundungus –"

"They were too late." Ron said.

Kingsley and Hermione stared at him. He knew then, it was his turn to speak – he had to tell them what happened.

Ron turned away, to stare at the mantle over the fire place. There were pictures there, the occupants waving, grinning….on the far right, just behind a photo of him and Hermione at Hermione's Hogwarts graduation, was a picture of Ron and Harry, in front of the Burrow.

He stared at it for a long time. Never again, would he see that smile. It was gone forever. It had survived Voldemort, but it couldn't – how could Harry be gone? After _everything_, how could he have…and like _that_?

New tears came, running the paths the others had taken. Ron gathered Hermione closer. This time, for his _own _comfort. "There was nothing there, when we apparated in. We knew it was a trap." He paused.

So fast. Gone so fast –

Choking back a sob, Ron continued, "Harry still wanted…just incase someone was hurt or….he had a gut….I tried to tell him we should leave –

_Soot coated everything, from the old paintings to the beaten furniture. There had been a house once, but now only the charred remains of a foundation were left. Harry ran his hand along the fence in the front yard, staring at the ruins. _

_"Does look like a place a Death Eater might like, doesn't it?" Ron said, coming to stand beside his friend. _

_"Yes. It does. It looks like something else, too, though." _

_Ron knew he was talking about his parents' house. Awkwardly, he changed the subject. "There's no one here, Harry."_

_"We haven't looked that good." Harry started forward. His feet crunched against the snow, creating deep footprints. _

_"It could be a trap." Ron's sweaty hand gripped his wand tighter. _

_"We have to be sure." Harry said._

_They walked in silence, down the cobblestone path. With each step, something squeezed Ron's heart a bit tighter – it was wrong, this place…_

_"Harry, I really think we shoul –"_

_All he did was blink…_

_A yell, a flash of green light…_

_"HARRY!" Ron dropped to his knees, shaking his friend. "NO!"_

_Cold, his hands, his face, everything was so cold. The phoenix-feather wand he treasured drooped, then fell, clinking lightly as it hit stone. Ron looked widely around, but no one was there – whoever had done this, they were gone. _

_Seconds later, a hundred little pops bombarded him; Ron bent over Harry, covering his body – though he didn't know why, it wasn't like he was protecting anyone, just a corpse, a remnant…_

_"Ron." He knew that voice. _

_"Dad?" Ron's grip on Harry's coat got tighter. He was crying; when had that started? _

_His father put his arm on Ron's shoulder, squeezing. _

_"What happened?" Another voice asked. Kingsley._

_"Harry…" Ron ignored the Aurors as they shouted. He turned back to his friend. "Harry. This can't…this can't be happening. HARRY!"_

_"He should see a healer." Kingsley said._

_Ron saw his father nod. _

_"I'm not leaving!" Ron said. _

_But they pulled him away, anyway. Someone put a blanket over Harry's body …it was over._

– All I did was blink." Ron whispered, as he finished the retelling.

Hermione sniffed, burying her face in Crookshanks' fur. "Do we know who?" She said.

"No." Kingsley said. "But we won't let up until we do."

Ron looked back at the mantle, at the photo…Harry grinned, waving, the scar on his forehead hidden by his mop of messy black hair.

More hail hit the windows; it was louder now, more forceful.

No one spoke, accept for Montague, who was currently shooing a moth away from his frog card ("Go away then, nothing for you here.") Ron watched him wave his rook –

_"Which one's that?" Ron asked, coming over._

_"Montague Knightley." Harry said, shoving the chocolate frog into his mouth. "Sure you don't want it?"_

_"Nah. I had five of him before. Besides, I gave all those away." He paused. "'Cept for, you know, maybe a couple." _

_Montague yelled something foul and Harry glared. "Bit of a prick." Tossing the card aside, he turned back to his books, which were all over the coffee table. _

_"What're you doing?" Ron asked, pulling Crookshanks out of Hermione's work bag, where he'd been eating a quill._

_"Trying to figure out some things." Harry said. "Look, you know we've been getting tips about a Death Eater…stronghold, I guess? I was thinking about where it could be. And what we could do to get at them." _

_"You're worse than Hermione with work." He said. "Never thought that would happen."_

_"I'm just…frustrated." Harry said, shutting one book and opening another. _

_He ran his hands over his face, sighing. _

_Ron sat down on the couch. "Did Kingsley get anything new, from that guy they arrested?"_

_"No." Harry said. _

_"Figures." Ron replied, grabbing another chocolate frog. "Hey!" He said, pulling apart the wrapper. "I got you." He dropped the card in Harry's lap._

_"Not a very good picture, is it?" Harry asked, scrunching up his nose. _

– Hermione's sob brought Ron back.

Kingsley had gone to the door. "I'll let you know what we find."

He left. Hermione leaned forward, gulping. "We should go, too. We should help find out what happened…."

She stared forlornly at the closed door.

Ron nodded and said softly, "Yeah." He didn't move.

They sat for a long time. The fire died; everything got dark, until the morning sun came through the windows, fractured by the fallen snow.

Yawning, Crookshanks detangled himself from Hermione's grip and sauntered into the kitchen. They could hear him tearing apart something. The noise made Ron twitch; slowly, he pulled away from Hermione and stood.

"I should…work." He said.

Without changing, or waiting for a response from her, he went to the door and left.

* * *

**TBC**

**Author's Note, part 2: **So, how'd you like it? Please review and let me know! Thanks so much!


	2. The DA

**Immortal**  
By Nienna Celebrindal 

**Author's Note: **I decided to continue. If you're reading, let me know what you think. Thanks! Oh, and thanks to EmStar202 for her wonderful review! - hugs -

* * *

**Chapter One  
**_The D.A._

The Ministry of Magic had changed somewhat; but not overly so. Ron stared at the ground as he walked, ignoring the murmured condolences of his peers. His reflection swam before him, rippling with the grain of the tiles. When he entered the main hall, his breath quickened – he hadn't thought about the Floo Network.

He tried to ignore the flashes of green flame. They were only wizards arriving, he _knew_ that; but, each time, he couldn't help thinking of Harry – how his body went limp, how cold his hands were….

Ron quickened his pace, pushing aside an elderly woman so he could make it to the elevator. No one reprimanded him for it. By now, everyone had heard that the Boy Who Lived was dead, felled by an unknown assailant while his best mate just _stood there_.

Catching swift movement to the side, Ron turned. Someone had shoved a Daily Prophet haphazardly into their work bag. When he saw Ron staring, the man waved nervously, shifting the bag behind his back, the pages of the prophet sticking out:

**IN TRIBUTE TO THE BOY WHO LIVES NO MORE**

By Rita Skeeter

_Early this Wednesday night, Harry James Potter, better known to the Wizarding World as __The Boy Who Lived, was killed just outside the ruins of the Pratt House in Birmingham. The only witness, Potter's school friend Ronald Weasley, has told Aurors that –_

The rest of the article was obscured by the bag and the man's elbow.

Ron wanted to say something, to yell, to tell the man he needn't to be so cautious, that Ron was_ fine_…he was an Auror himself now, after all, and Aurors were trained to handle this sort of loss – but then the elevator opened onto Level Two, and he stepped out without a word.

The Aurors' Headquarters were quite plain – accept for the billions of leaflets, photos and papers that decorated the grey walls. There weren't any offices, besides the Head's. They had cubicles; his sat beside Harry's, near the back of the office, where Kingsley Shacklebolt's had once been.

He hadn't thought about that before.

Ron stopped, staring down the long row of desks and cheap plastic dividers. He expected to see the mess of papers and junk that Harry kept, billowing over the sides of his space; but it was clean. Then he noticed the box. It was sitting by Ron's cubicle, Harry's name scribbled across the front.

People were stepping over it, walking by it – as if the box wasn't there. After everything Harry had done for them, for _everyone in the world_…they just passed by. They didn't even glance.

Incensed, Ron spun on his heels, and went straight to the Head of Aurors office.

Tavia Ingle sat behind her large oak desk, behind a stack of papers nearly as high as the ceiling; some of which were filing themselves, while others called out names to her. She was a tall, thin woman, with lots of blond hair kept up in a bun and a long, narrow nose.

"Holly Willingham..." Shouted a bright blue post-it, stuck to the face of a gold Nicolas Flamel statue. "…Trixy Watertown."

Tavia muttered something unintelligible and pulled the post-it off, re-sticking it to the side of a swaying paper stack. Ron hadn't thought she'd noticed him, but seconds later she waved, silently motioning to the torn, brown leather chair sitting in front of her desk.

Ron sat down. His hands trembled as he went over everything he wanted to say – he could feel his ears get red.

"What?" She asked.

"I need to talk to you."

Tavia looked up, somewhat surprised. "I need to talk to you as well, Mr. Weasley." She paused. "I did think we'd be having this conversation elsewhere, however. Do you really feel it prudent to be back at work today?"

"His stuff is just sitting there!" Ron snapped. "Out on the floor, like it doesn't matter!"

"We needed his space. There are Auror candidates unable to enter the office because we don't have the funds or space necessary to accommodate them. I had a good kid who wanted in."

"You've only got those candidates because of Harry! Before everything he did, no one wanted to be an Auror." Ron snapped.

"The fact that everyone wants to be the next _Boy Who Lived_ may be filling our training schools, but it's no help to me. Half of those students don't know what their in for – the other half are looking for glory. It's actually quite the pain. The fact that I've found so many good potentials is fascinating, really." She picked up a quill and nibbled the end of it, then scribbled something on the blue post-it.

"You could have at least left his stuff for _me_ to collect." Ron said.

"I did. It's in the box, bring it home with you." Tavia replied.

Ron shook his head, his fists tightening on the chair arms. "You – you just…YOU'RE TREATING THIS LIKE HE'S JUST GONE AND TRANSFERRED OR SOMETHING!" Ron yelled. He stood, knocking over his seat. "HARRY'S DIED!"

"People tend to do that a lot around here."

He couldn't believe it. She sounded _bored_.

The old grandfather clock by her cushy armchair chimed, and Tavia quickly folded a paper airplane, flicked her wand at it, and watched it zoom past Ron's head and out the door. Then she finally looked straight at him – "I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's everyone's loss."

"But it's not." Tavia said, standing, too. "Voldemort's gone, Harry's done his job. To most of the world, it's a sad, somewhat troubling day. But that's it."

"People cared about Harry."

"People who knew him. The rest of the public view him as a celebrity, one whose death will be talked about, mourned for the next," She checked her watch, "Fifteen minutes or so and then become Rita's next bestseller." Tavia pulled a good sized pile of papers off of the largest stack and put them on top of the filing cabinet behind her. "I suggest you go home. Get some rest, plan a funeral."

"I thought you wanted to ask me something?"

"What? Oh, I think that can wait for later. You need time." Tavia said.

"I don't need time." Ron protested. "I want to help, with…finding who did this."

Tavia frowned. She sat back down in her chair and folded her hands in front of her, then, quietly, she said, "I can't let you do that. You're too close to it. And besides, right now, you're a suspect." When Ron started forward, his mouth open, she added, "Not a serious one, but I'm following procedure. You were there alone with him. Means I have to look at you first." She paused. "Go home, Weasley."

As Ron made to leave, she added, "And avoid level three, Rita's on the prowl."

Ron grunted and left, but he didn't go home.

Carrying the shabby cardboard box filled with Harry's things, he apparated to the outskirts of Hogwarts, then trudged up the main path in the snow. The castle loomed like a dark giant against the horizon, it's highest towers obscured by clouds.

Next to it, tiny, almost comical in comparison, was Hagrid's hut. Ron stopped by the front door, his hand outstretched to knock – inside, he could hear crying. Loosing his nerve, Ron set the box down on the front stoop and wandered off. Before he knew it, he was standing outside the Herbology greenhouses.

Suddenly quite cold, Ron stepped into the fist one. It was warm, magically warm. Steam rose from a line of water troughs at the back, next to which stood a familiar, gangly man, half hidden by the boughs of a tree.

When he heard footsteps, the man looked around. His eyes deadened upon seeing Ron.

"Hey." He said softly.

"I don't know what I'm doing here." Ron said, preempting Neville Longbottom's next question.

Neville nodded. "Sure." He paused, then, "Want to help? Keep yourself a bit busy?"

"Yeah…I guess."

For the next hour, they planted ginger in silence; which broke only when they'd finished their work and Neville said hesitantly, "I can't believe he's gone."

"Neither can I." Ron said.

"McGonagall wants to do some sort of…ah…memorial thing. I thought it was a nice idea."

Ron nodded. "I do, too."

Neville shifted nervously. "I didn't want to push you but…I really…what happened, Ron? I mean, I read Rita's article…but she's rarely very credible…do you know who did it yet? How are the Aurors going about it?"

"I don't want to talk about what happened." Ron said, harsher than he'd meant. "Rita's article is accurate, kind of. It's good enough."

"And the Aurors?" Neville pushed.

Ron glared. "I don't know. I'm not allowed to participate in the investigation."

"And when has that ever stopped you and Harry?" Neville said, getting angry in his turn. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, gold coin, slamming it down on the table in front of them. Ron recognized it as the D.A. galleons Hermione had made in their fifth year.

It shimmered, catching the light from the overhead lamps. Shakily, Ron took it in his hands. The metal was cold –

_So cold. Harry's hands were so cold._

_"Ron, come on." His father said. "You need to see a healer!"_

_"I'm not leaving Harry!" _

_His father motioned to someone, and strong arms wrapped around Ron's waist, pulling him away. _

_"NO!" Ron yelled. "Let go of me! HARRY!" _

_But his friend didn't move. _

– Ron's fist closed around the galleon. "You're right." He whispered. "How do you work these things?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I want to talk to everyone. We need to…gather or something. How do I get it to work?" Ron asked.

"I think you just tap it, but you need Harry's. Remember what Hermione said?" Neville asked. "Does he still…did he…do you know where it is? Maybe Hermione can make a new one."

"Let's go ask her."

"Wait!" Neville said, as Ron went to the door of the greenhouse. "I can't just leave. I've got students coming."

"Can't you get a substitute?"

"Yes, but I'll be a minute. Look, you can wait here, or…or with Hagrid." Neville said. "I'll be quick, I promise."

Ron settled himself on a stool. "I'll wait here."

Neville gave him an odd look, but left without commenting.

"I'm going to figure this out, Harry." Ron whispered. "I swear to you, I'm going to figure out what happened."


	3. Kreacher's Clue

**Immortal**  
By Nienna Celebrindal

**Author's Note: **Here's chapter two.

* * *

**Chapter Two  
**_Kreacher's Clue_

When Neville returned, the two of them left for Grimmauld Place – which both Ron and Harry shared. Kreacher greeted them, sending them into the library, where Hermione was curled by one of the room's two fireplaces, reading a book. Her face was red and her eyes watery.

Quickly, they explained their plan to her. After making a new coin, the three of them summoned Dumbledore's Army. Ron figured only a few of them would show – but to his surprise, everyone came (well, everyone who was still alive.)

They settled in a dusty room at the back of the house. Old draperies hung like sooty rags from the black windows. In the far corner was a chest of drawers that would periodically recite poetry; beside that was a writing desk strewn with old quills – several of which were moving of their own accord.

Ron sat down on the couch. It had a plastic covering over it, attesting to its disuse – all in all, it was a gloomy, depressing place – and it suited Ron's mood well. He was glad to be finally doing something, to be helping catch Harry's killer but…Ron knew nothing would make the pain easier. Harry was gone – and no matter how many times he said it, he could never really believe it.

It just couldn't be.

Hermione tapped her wand, against a coffee table in front of the couch, to get everyone's attention. They sat, some on the couch with Ron, others on the floor, staring at her. She blinked, clearly trying to hold back another wave of tears, and said shakily, "We're here today because…because of Harry. I'm sure you all know what's happened by now. The Ministry and the Aurors office aren't…we think that…"

"I want to be the one to catch the person who did this." Ron interrupted. "But the Ministry's intent on keeping me off the case – which is why I need your help."

"Yes." Hermione agreed.

"What exactly…happened out there?" Dean Thomas asked hesitantly, looking at his fellow DA members for support.

Luna stared serenely at him, a copy of the quibbler clutched in her hand. "Yes. Tell us, Ron." She said softly, still staring at Dean.

When Ron started to speak, she turned finally to look at him. He'd thought she was interested in Dean before – but now, with her tear-stained face glaring at him, he knew the truth. She didn't want to look at him, because it meant seeing confirmation in his eyes: they would tell her that Harry was really dead, that the _Prophet_ wasn't misinformed.

Quietly, Ron told everyone what had happened. The explanation took a long time, mainly because he had to keep stopping to gather his composure. Finished, he patted his hands on his knees and listened to the chest of drawers, which was now reciting a poem by Ingolfr the Iambic.

Eventually, Hermione sniffed, bringing everyone's attention back to the present.

"What do we do?" Neville asked.

"We need to figure out what the Ministry knows." Ron said, glad for the chance to concentrate on something other than the night Harry died. "I think I can get help from Kingsley with that, or my dad. Then, we need to track down the information we receive and locate –" He stopped, shrugging. They all knew what had to happen next.

"We begin in the morning." Hermione said. "Tonight, just get some rest everyone. There are plenty of open rooms."

"Not too many that look like this, I hope." Dean said.

"No, no. Kreacher's done a wonderful job with the main part of the house." Hermione told him, smiling softly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Spew." He whispered, causing Dean to laugh.

"It's not funny!" Hermione snapped.

"Let's just get to bed." Ginny said.

It was a simple, quiet statement – but because of whom it came from, and because she hadn't said anything all night, everyone was silenced. Awkwardly, Dean and Luna walked out, quickly followed by everyone but Ron, Ginny and Hermione.

"Gin." Ron said.

"I'm fine." Ginny snapped, standing up so fast the chair she was sitting in topple backward. It crashed against the floor, casting a plum of dust into the air. After a moment, Ginny said, "You should have told me yourself, what happened. You told everyone here well enough – no, instead, I get an _official Auror representative_ to come and see me!" She was crying now, wiping tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her Quidditch robes; Ginny played for the Holyhead Harpies.

When Hermione realized Ron wasn't going to say anything, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Ginny, hugging tightly. The two girls cried together, while Ron sat awkwardly on the couch, listening to their sobbing and staring at the crystal lamp across the room.

Harry had a lamp like that in his room –

_Ron knew something was wrong. Harry was sitting on his bed, fidgeting. There was something in his hands, a box…he knew what that meant…_

_When he saw Ron enter, Harry looked up awkwardly, trying to hide what he had – but Ron stopped him. _

"_You going to ask her?" He whispered._

_Light from the lamp on his bedside table lit Harry's cheeks, causing the blush that was gathering to seem redder than it actually was._

"_I wanted to ask your dad and mum first." Harry said. "But I saw this, and I thought…you know…" He shrugged. "I thought she would like it." _

– Kreacher knocked Ron out of his stupor. The little elf waddled into the room a dishrag hanging from his hands. Without a word, he began mopping dust from the coffee table.

Ron shook his head. "We're not using this room anymore Kreacher, don't bother."

Kreacher nodded; when he turned to leave, Ron spotted something hanging from his other hand. It was a tiny bit of mirror – he recognized it as one of the shards from the mirror Sirius had given Harry, the very same mirror that had called Dobby to them when he, Harry and Hermione were captured by the Malfoys.

"Trying to sneak that to your stash?" Ron snapped, causing both girls to turn. Hermione looked incredulously at him and he pointed to Kreacher, "He's knicking Harry's things, just like he did Sirius'."

"No, no. Kreacher is not. Kreacher is not." Kreacher babbled, dropping the dirty dust rag.

Hermione bent down, prying the bit of mirror from Kreacher's fingers. "I'm sure he's got a reasonable explanation, don't you Kreacher?"

Kreacher's mouth opened, but instead of an apology or a reason, he screeched, "Kreacher must have mirror! Kreacher must! Master's or –" And then he stopped, clamped his mouth shut, and rammed his head into the coffee table.

"No, Kreacher!" Hermione yelled, wrapping the little elf in her arms and holding tightly. "Kreacher stop! Harry wouldn't want you to do this!"

Ron put his head in his hands. "Just let him Hermione!"

"No!" Hermione yelled. "Don't you go taking your anger out on Kreacher, he hasn't done anything wrong!"

"Yes he has." Ginny whispered.

Both Ron and Hermione turned to her.

"Wha-?" Ron began.

"His master ordered him to bring the mirror shard and not to tell…" She trailed off, blush coloring her cheeks. "I don't know who Kreacher's master would be if Harry died, but I bet they wouldn't have any use for that little mirror shard – or, if it wasn't one of Harry's friends, wouldn't even know about that mirror."

"What're you saying?" Ron asked.

"I'm saying, Harry's alive."

Hermione let go of Kreacher, who shrieked and bashed his head with the crystal lamp. After that, he seemed satisfied that he'd been punished enough and marched out of the room, mumbling about "meddlers" and "coming back."

Ron stared down at the piece of mirror in Hermione's hands.

"That's not possible." He whispered.


	4. Rescue

**Immortal**  
By Nienna Celebrindal

**Author's Note: **Since I'm going to be away for a while I decided to upload the rest of the story all at once so you wouldn't have to wait. Here it is! Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Four  
**_Rescue_

"There's one way to find out." Hermione said. "Harry's got a will, I helped him with it. We have to figure out who he left Kreacher and this house to, then get that person to try and give Kreacher an order."

"We shouldn't tell anyone else." Ginny said. "We wouldn't want to get their hopes up about this."

They found Harry's will at the bottom of his old school trunk, tucked up in the attic – just where he'd told Hermione it would be. Cautiously, Hermione opened the envelope. Her hands were shaking.

Ginny stood next to her – she looked equally happy and furious. If Harry _was _alive, he was in for a terrible fight with her. Wincing at the thought, Ron looked over Hermione's shoulder.

"He's left the house to me." He said. "_Me_?"

"Well it's the obvious choice, isn't it?" Hermione said. "You share it with him. He wouldn't want to put you out of a home."

"Which means you also inherit Kreacher." Ginny said.

"So all we need to do is see if you can give him an order." Hermione said.

They went down to the kitchen, where they found Kreacher baking some sort of pie. Ron was trembling now; he had hope, hope that Harry wasn't really dead – and if Kreacher obeyed him…it would be worse than before, the grief, the anger, the sadness…because for that brief moment….

His voice shaking terribly, Ron said, "Kreacher…Kreacher…ah…_sit_."

"He's not a _dog_, Ron." Hermione snapped.

Kreacher turned his big yellow eyes on Ron. There was a pause, and then he went back to work.

Ron's knees buckled. Hermione gasped, running to his side. "Ron, are you okay? Ron?"

"He's still alive. Harry's still alive." Ron whispered. "But how is that possible? I saw…I saw him be killed."

Ginny was sobbing behind them, her face buried in her hands. Ron glanced at her, then buried his own face in Hermione's shoulder, sobbing. He couldn't believe it…it was too much – believing Harry was dead and then finding out he wasn't, but having no idea what was going on….Harry could be injured, or captured, or….

Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around him, resting her head on his. He could tell she was crying, too.

"Why would he need the mirror?" Ginny asked after a while, sniffing loudly.

"I don't know." Hermione answered. "But we have to find out." She turned her red face to Kreacher and said, "Kreacher…Kreacher, where is Harry?"

"Kreacher cannot tell, Kreacher cannot tell!" Kreacher babbled, rubbing his hands together.

"Kreacher. Harry would want you to tell us where he is." Hermione said. "He would want that."

"Kreacher must not, Kreacher must not."

"KREACHER!" Ron snapped. "TELL US WHERE HARRY IS!"

"Ron, it's not his fault, stop yelling." Hermione said, but without real conviction.

Kreacher looked at them. For a long time he was silent, then quickly he yelled, "The old Wellington House!"

"Get everyone together, Ginny." Ron said, but he needn't have bothered – she was already halfway out of the room.

Kreacher raced for one of the copper pots hanging on the walls, but Hermione stopped him, stunning him with a quick spell. Sadly, she stared at his prone form. "I'm so sorry Kreacher, but it's for your own good." Then she turned to Ron. "Why wouldn't Harry want him to tell us where he was? Why would he…." She shook her head. "It's just not like Harry, I don't get it."

"We'll find out soon." Ron said, flexing the fingers around his wand. "Soon."

Dumbledore's Army gathered in the foyer of Grimmauld Place, where Ron, Ginny and Hermione explained everything that had happened. Ron sent Anthony Goldstein with Cho Chang to the Ministry, to inform them about what was going on.

"I think the rest of us should go straight to Harry…who knows what he's in the middle of…" He looked uncertainly at them.

"I agree." Dean said.

"Yes." Luna concurred.

The rest of the Army murmured their consent, and they apparated to within a mile of the old Wellington House. The moon was high, giving their surroundings a ghostly pallor. Ron stepped forward, wincing as a twig broke beneath his feet. The house stood in the distance, outlined against the foggy sky.

When they got closer, he noticed two wizards standing by the front door.

"They look like guards." Hermione whispered beside him.

"Yeah." Ron agreed.

"We'll deal with them." Dean said, motioning to several others.

Seconds later, the two guards crumpled. Ron approached with everyone else, gathering on the stoop.

"I think…even though it's hasty and we haven't got a real plan…or best bet is to split up and look for Harry." Ron said. "Help will be on its way soon…we just have to hold out until then."

They nodded.

"Let's go then." Ron said, breaking away from the group with Hermione.

He and Hermione went up several flights of windy, gloomy stairs, before a light caught their eyes. It was at the end of a particularly dark hallway, with rows of muggle paintings. They were eerily still as Ron and Hermione passed, their feet making dull thuds on the old wood floor.

Just outside the door, Hermione stopped, shushing Ron – though it wasn't really necessary…he wasn't making any nose anyway.

A high-pitched voice rose, shattering the quiet.

"SHUT IT! SHUT IT! SHUT IT!" It was a girl's voice.

The next voice caused Ron's heart to jump –

"If you're going to kill me, then do it. But if you're not, let me go."

Harry.

"BE QUIET!"

There was a pause, and then Ron heard Harry grunt – and the sound of skin on skin. Cautiously – and despite Hermione's panicked, "Ron!" – Ron peered around the corner and into the room.

The young girl was standing in front of a fireplace, her wild black hair clinging to her sweaty face. She was pale, with furious brown eyes. Below her, tied to one of the room's support beams, was Harry; he had a large welt on his cheek.

"You know you can't do this." Harry said.

The girl looked livid. "I can! I don't have any problem murdering you!"

"If you didn't have a problem with it, you would have killed me back at the Pratt House."

"Where's your elf?" The girl demanded, changing the subject. "He was supposed to have been back by now! You told him to get your friends, _didn't you_? Gave him some sort of secret order!?"

"House elves don't work that way, I told him what you wanted – you heard me. There wasn't anything more to it!"

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" She raised her wand, but then put it down and hit Harry again instead.

He grunted, his head flinging backwards.

Anger swelled in Ron. Without thinking he jumped out, yelling "_Expelliarmus_!"

Both the girl and her wand went flying backward, into the wall.

Ron rushed forward, as Hermione emerged, her wand trained on the girl – who was groaning and sitting up, looking like she want to make a dive for her wand, which had landed several feet away.

"Don't!" Hermione warned shrilly. "Don't or I'll jinx you!"

"Harry." Ron said, working the ropes that had Harry tied.

"How did…?" Harry asked.

"Kreacher."

Harry grinned.

When Harry was free, the two friends sat awkwardly. Ron blinked, trying to keep his emotions in check, but he couldn't…rushing forward, he wrapped Harry in a hug.

"I thought you'd died, mate!"

Harry pushed Ron away, so he could see his friend's face, "Died?! Why would you think that?!"

"You just collapsed, and you…you weren't…" Ron shook his head. "Glad you're okay."

"You know you're going to have to give me a better explanation later, right?"

Ron smiled, "Yeah. Be glad to."

"Ron, Harry!" Hermione shrieked.

They turned, the young girl was going for her wand.

Harry rushed forward, kicking it further out of her reach. "Don't." He warned.

Seconds later, the rest of Dumbledore's Army – and some Aurors, including Kingsley – rushed into the room. When the young girl had been hauled out of the room by Ministry officials, and the rest of the DA had departed outside, to give Aurors their statements, Hermione rushed over and hugged Harry, sobbing.

He hugged her back. "It's okay. I'm fine."

"Who was that girl?" Ron asked, moving protectively closer to his friend; he swung an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Belinda." Harry said softly. "Something…I don't know her last name."

"What'd she want with you?"

"She's the daughter of a Death Eater, she wanted to break her father out of prison…she thought if she had the Elder Wand, she couldn't fail. But…when it came time to kill me, so that the wand would obey her…she couldn't."

"I saw it though." Ron said. "I saw that green light hit you and –"

"It's a new spell." Said Kingsley, reentering the room.

"A new spell?" Hermione asked.

"One of Belinda's own creations, I think." Kingsley said. "It mimics death, but does not kill."

"So she tricked everyone into thinking Harry was dead, instead of killing him, because she lost the nerve, but new that if people that she _had_ killed Harry then she could bring him here and take all the time she needed to end his life, because no one would be looking for him and if she hid her tracks well enough, no one would look for her either." Hermione said.

"Your obit was nice." Kingsley said awkwardly to Harry.

"I think he's making a joke." Ron said, surprised, as Kingsley left the room."My WHAT?" Harry asked, as Hermione escorted the two boys from the room and out of the house.

"Oh yes. They did a whole article on you in the Prophet. Rita did." Ron said.

"_Rita_?" Harry asked, clearly peeved.

"Something still bothers me though." Hermione said, as they walked across the gravel drive. "How did she get you from the Ministry morgue?"

"She's got someone on the inside, old Death Eater sympathizer." Harry said. "Met him, ugly fellow."

"And why did she want your mirror?" Ron asked.

"She heard about how we escaped from the Malfoys, and didn't want me to be able to do the same thing. She wanted to have that mirror where she could see it." Harry said.

That night, at Grimmauld Place, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione sat together in front of the fire, drinking tea supplied by a cranky Kreacher – who still hadn't forgiven Hermione for jinxing him earlier.

During a particularly long silence, Harry said, "Hey, Ron…Hermione, do you think I could?" He glanced at Ginny, and Ron knew.

Hermione seemed to understand as well, because she quickly followed Ron out of the room. They stood just outside the door, peering around the door, so that they could watch.

Harry fumbled nervously in his pockets, before tapping Ginny gently on the shoulder and presenting a small, velvet box. "I…Ginny…will you marry me? I know this isn't really romantic, and I'd had it all planned out before…but with everything that's happened – the whole time Belinda…I thought…." He never got to finish his thought, because Ginny flung her arms around him and gasped,

"YES!"

Hermione couldn't contain herself, she jumped back into the room clapping – which caused Harry to blush furiously.

"That's so nice!" Hermione said, grinning. "Don't you think, Ron?"

Ron looked at her oddly. "What're you…"

"She means she wants a ring, too." Ginny said, from Harry's lap.

"WHAT?"

"Well!" Hermione snapped. "We've been dating for a long time. I don't see anything wrong with getting engaged!"

"I didn't say I didn't want to!" Ron snapped back. "You just surprised me is all."

"Surprised you?!" Hermione said. "This is something you should have been thinking about!"

"Well…I'm not…fine, I'll get you a ring!"

"I don't want you to do it if you don't want to." Hermione said.

"What…but?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Only the two of you." He said.

"Shut it, Harry." Ron said, but it was with humor. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around Hermione. "I want to marry you, Hermione. I promise."

She blushed. "So…."

"I'm going to surprise you with it. I won't tell you when or where." Ron said. "But don't worry. It's on my mind."

Hermione smiled. "I'm so happy."

They went to bed an hour later. Ron tired to sleep, but he couldn't. Quietly, he crept to Harry's room, where he woke his friend up with a pillow.

"Wha-?" Harry asked groggily.

"I need your help. I don't know what kind of ring to get Hermione."

THE END.


End file.
